As I write, I imagine you naked on my bed with an abacus upon your belly. Sliding beads of infinite numbers, you watch me while I pluck illusion from the moonlit sky. Blinded by the dazzling lights of memory and truth, the cigarette drops from the corner of my mouth. Hands around your legs. Fingers searching for secrets that remain forever hidden. It will have us in the end, it always does. Death stalks my actions, every footstep swallowed by its invisible touch. In the faces that pass me by. In the mirrors that hang on walls. We try so hard to hide it, yet just for once we should stop. Take off that dress. Take off that mask. As I lay by your side, every emotion I’ve ever felt can be found behind your autumn eyes. Mountains of beer bottles and seas of wine that cling to you like the remnants of what was once a dream. Trespass the boundaries between our love and fear. Step inside a portal to who we really are. All hearts exposed. Bones tasting air and crumbling like flowers that fall from the pages of a forgotten book. All those things, those wonderful words that swarm like bees in fields of golden corn at dusk. Beauty on your neck, and caves within my chest that collapse without warning. A single drop of rain. A single glance at the people we used to know. Lovers. Enemies. Curled together in the darkness, two hearts as one as the footsteps we so carefully tread fade from view. One last time and everything will be okay. Breaking bodies, and the sense of desperation that follows from one bed to the next. One more night, and maybe tonight, this is when we lay those ghosts to rest.